Her idle walk came to a halt as she caught sight of the hybrid headed toward her, and Vesper blinked once languidly even as she wondered whether she wanted to see him. She’d sparred with Max a few times and was fond of him in a distant way, but the sight of his young features reminded her of Blind. It wasn’t that they looked alike—dark Blind was strictly lupine while pale Max’s face betrayed his dual-heritage of coyote and malamute—but she remembered her lament on the mountain: why did the innocent die when sinners yet lived? Even despite his odd way of referring to his mixed species, she did not count Max among monsters.
The returning grief passed, however, at the sight of his lolling tongue and the all-round easiness he carried himself with. Vesper was not quite able to gather the enthusiasm and warmth reserved for such young members of the clan, but she spared him a nod.
“What are you up to today, Max?” the coywolf asked, folding one arm across her thin waist while her other hand went up to scratch her jaw. As was growing customary of her, her brown shoulder gravitated toward a near tree, and she leaned against it watching him.
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